The Good Son
and in the evenings
he heads
down the road
to the pasture
unchanged
where the horses
can hear him come
before he ever steps
outta the truck
taking care of ‘em
has helped him heal
their quiet strength
centers him
he can go and tell ‘em
anything
and everything
or nothing
at all …
it didn’t matter
what he said
or didn’t say
they knew
they could feel it
in the tremble of his hand
in the silent stream
in the bowed head
he didn’t have to try
and hide it
or hold it
in the dusk
the heat or the rain
cold or wind
season to season
out there
on the range
feeding the horses
he’s just a boy
who misses his Mama
and aches for his Daddy
and just wants to make ‘em
proud
TL